


receiver of voices inaudible

by thisbluespirit



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: 500 prompts, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 21:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15981242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: Deva’s started hearing things.  He can’t say he’s surprised.





	receiver of voices inaudible

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aralias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/gifts).



> For aralias in the [500 Prompts Meme](http://lost-spook.dreamwidth.org/291842.html): 317 – Receiver of voices inaudible – Deva.
> 
> (It's been a long time since aralias left this prompt, but I was sure it was in relation to the idea of Cally/Deva as a random pairing produced by a generator, so that was what I wrote. I could have been imagining things, though! It was a while ago...)
> 
> Also for the Hurt/Comfort Bingo square "touch starved."

When Deva first hears the voice, he thinks developing symptoms of mental strain was inevitable at some point, given the dangerous life that’s he leading, trapped between the long arm of the Federation and Blake’s complicated plans and charades. He is only surprised it took this long.

The voice is disconcertingly real, however. It says, “Who are you? Is someone there?”

Then it disappears. 

Deva merely decides to count it as a point in favour of his current state of well-being that he did not try to reply.

 

The voice returns a few days later. It does not sound threatening, or like a part of him. It comes at a quiet time when he is feeding information into the computer, alone in the hidden base on Qitras 3. 

“Is that you, Vila? I know that someone is here, and it is not Avon.”

It begins to seem rude to ignore it, although Deva isn’t entirely sure how one goes about addressing strange voices in one’s head, and tries… _Hello?_

“You are not Vila.”

 _No_ , he says, a little apologetically, and accidentally adds a few extracts from the data file he is reading, along with a message code.

“Are you working with a computer?”

 _Yes._ He glances over his shoulder, shiftily, mostly out of habit, but he is still alone. Apart from the intruder in his mind, that is.

“Ah. So am I. Perhaps that is how I am able to make the connection. You are not Auron?”

Auron. Deva knows of it. It has recently been destroyed. He winces a little. No wonder the voice sounds sad. _No. I’m afraid not. You are?_

“Yes. I am Cally.”

 _I’m sorry,_ he says. _There can’t be many of you left._

“There are not. It is a pleasant change to have company in my thoughts. Who are you?”

Deva reviews his current unwise life choices and the chances of maintaining the connection and lying, and tells her, regretfully, _Best not to say._

Cally vanishes again, but Deva knows now he is not imagining things. He doesn’t know much about Auron, but he’s heard of their telepathic abilities. It’s a relief, of course, but almost a disappointment: he had been looking forward to telling Blake exactly what state his schemes were driving him to.

 

Sometimes when Cally is there, she’s not even so much a voice as a feeling, especially when he’s not working. The initial link by computer, once established, doesn’t seem easy to break – Cally tries to explain something about a machine called Orac and another called Zen, but what remains unclear. She calls them computers, but the images and emotions she conveys don’t seem quite like computers to him.

She doesn’t seem dangerous, and Deva also finds it pleasant not to be alone in his thoughts, at least every once in a while. It’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t make his hair stand on end with every new suggestion. It feels as if he’s found somewhere he can escape temporarily. He hopes she feels the same.

He’s careful never to mention Blake, and thinks he hasn’t let anything slip in that direction, but even if he has, Cally has not betrayed them. 

“Deva,” says Blake, interrupting his peace and quiet, knocking and putting his head round the door before Deva has a chance to get up and answer. “We’re on the move again. Gauda Prime this time.”

Deva stops. “Gauda Prime?” Blake is gone again before he can argue. Wonderful. One of the most lawless and God-forsaken spots in the galaxy, and it’s not as if there isn’t plenty of competition. He supposes there must be a reason, although whether or not it’s one he’ll like is anyone’s guess. He never knows with Blake.

 

 _It’s a shame we can’t really meet,_ Deva says. 

Cally’s smiling in his head; he’s warmed by it. “I thought you wanted to remain incognito.”

 _Isn’t it already too late for that?_ says Deva. _I suspect I must have given away my name by now. I’m getting better at this, but I still haven’t mastered this – this thought transference. It doesn’t come naturally to me._

“Perhaps,” said Cally. “But I respect your decision. I do not need a name to know you. And we cannot meet in person – but the mind is a powerful tool. It can be a simple matter to fool the senses.”

 _Show me,_ he says, curiosity overriding caution. Or perhaps it is caution; he ought to see who or what she truly is, if she’ll show him. If he can trust an illusion. He probably can’t.

“I’m here, then,” says Cally, and she’s sitting on the bunk opposite in his cell-like room in the base. She smiles again, and Deva sits up in shock. He wasn’t sure what his mental picture of her had been exactly, but as soon as he takes in her appearance – thin, angular, dark-eyed, with short brown hair – he recognises her anyway. She holds out a hand. “I even feel real.”

He hesitates, and then stretches out his fingers to touch her, to test her statement. It’s true. “You do.”

“Yes. Of course, I’m not really here – I’m sitting in my room, on – on my ship. But after these last few months, our connection is strong enough that I can fool you quite easily. I will not, however, in any other way. Not unless you wish me to. The mind sees what it expects to see. If I tell yours to expect to see me, then it does.”

Deva considers this. “Can you see me?”

“No. I can sense you, so I know where you are. I do not think it is in your power to return the favour. Your secrets will remain safe from me.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, but he’s lying and she knows it. He wishes this went both ways now. “It’s Deva, by the way. My name.”

She smiles one last time before she fades away. “Yes. I know.”

Without her the small room suddenly seems so appallingly dark and empty, he wonders how he’s supposed to bear it. He gets up and finds some work to do instead.

 

 _How did this happen?_ he asks next time. _Your abilities I can understand, but I’ve never experienced anything like this before._

“As I said, I think it was Orac’s doing, computer to computer. I expect he used yours to facilitate the connection.”

The computer Deva is using is stolen, and once belonged to a very strange Federation scientist. Anything is possible. He makes a note to have every circuit double-checked once more just in case.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Cally says. She sounds somewhere between amused and apologetic. “It was probably mostly Orac. I tried to ask him what he had been doing, but all I could get out of him was that it was something to do with a query Avon had initiated. I do not have the necessary clearance, according to him. I expect Avon will agree.”

Deva laughs to himself, softly. Klyn, passing, gives him an odd look.

 _It’s all right,_ he says. _I quite like having an imaginary friend._

“Neither of us are imaginary,” says Cally, and appears again beside him, causing him to jump.

Deva looks around hastily, but Klyn has gone, and he’s alone, but for Cally.

“Oh, you need not be alarmed. No one else can see or hear me. It’s your mind I’m occupying, not theirs.”

_I’m not sure that’s entirely reassuring. Or I’m not sure the rest of the base would think so._

Cally grins at him across the desk. “Yes. This is probably not a good time. I should go.”

She’s right, of course, but he says, _No, don’t. Stay for a little while._

“Just until the next emergency at my end,” she says. “Or until I get tired. This takes effort, you know.”

_Then I appreciate it._

 

It’s the last time he hears or sees her. 

Perhaps the distance between them has widened too much and the link has broken. Perhaps something’s happened to her. He could probably find out, given the pieces of information she’s given him, but he doesn’t want to know. The average lifespan of those who are non-Federation are often short. She’s very likely dead, and he feels it like a weight in his stomach; affecting him more than the loss of some of the people he’s worked with. But then, some of them were traitors and mercenaries, and none of them are or have been Cally.

He tries to tell himself it’s for the best, but her echo remains in his mind: the ghost of a thin, dark-eyed woman with a crooked smile haunts his quarters to the end.


End file.
